


if all you young men were fish in the water

by Kt_fairy



Series: The Clio Goes West [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys Will Be Boys, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Gratuitous Victorian Undressing, Hand Jobs, Lads Lads Lads, M/M, PWP without Porn, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24090136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: They hit the water with a graceless, heavy splat, the force of it smarting like the firm smacks Henry used to receive as a child for stealing pears. The gloriously warm water of the gulf soothed the stinging way as it swirled around him, bubbles rushing brightly past his ears and almost getting up his nose.He pushed off the rocky seabed, and was momentarily blinded upon surfacing, shoving his hair back and dashing the water from his eyes just in time for James to sink them again by grasping Henry by the shoulders, jumping up, and then dropping down heavily.OrA lazy, sticky, sultry afternoon, swimming in the Arabian Sea.
Relationships: Commander James Fitzjames/Lt Henry T. D. Le Vesconte
Series: The Clio Goes West [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029291
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	if all you young men were fish in the water

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to MsKingBean for sending eye emoji's when I threw this into conversation, for loving Dundy with the strength of 1 million suns, for fixing my comma's and grammar's, and for making me make sense.

The water in the Gulf of Aden was as pure, smooth a blue as Henry had ever seen. Its clarity was sometimes remarkable, fishes and reefs appearing as if below a pane of glass, and when the afternoon sun caught it, as it did now, the way the gentle ripples glittered and glimmered was like the prettiest of silks.

Henry took a moment to enjoy the sight, basking in the cool shade cast by the sloping, rocky cliffs of this part of the Yemeni coast. The heat was still close of course, and the effort of hopping from one sea smoothed rock to the other in order to reach the large, flat bolder where he was currently warming the soles of his feet, had made him devilish warm.

It was all bliss, heavenly bliss, compared to sweltering on or, even worse, below  _ Clio’s  _ decks while they sailed from the Persian gulf to the Arabian Sea. Even those amongst the crew who hailed from West Indies felt the length of the burning hot days - it was only Nebet who enjoyed the heat as she sprawled amidships, her spotted tail sweeping to and fro with abject laziness.

Dispensing with his uniform coat was a great and singular relief. Henry held his arms out a moment to let the breeze un-stick his sleeves from his sweaty skin, before starting on his waistcoat. 

“A moment, Dundy. Listen,” James said from behind him, and Henry half turned towards his voice before doing just that.

There was the soft lap of water against the collection of smooth rocks upon which they stood, the far distant cries of some sea birds, and, slightly closer, the whoops and calls of sailors allowed their merriment. 

They had moored _Clio_ just offshore of this somewhat idyllic stretch of coast; its unpopulated, sheltered nature exactly the sort of place they had been ordered to keep a weather eye on. Two jollyboats went ashore, and after a good while spent inspecting the sandy beaches and rocky coves for any nefarious sign of slavers and pirates, James had allowed the men a fews of hours for their leisure.

Which meant they had to clear off, of course. No sailor could be at his leisure while the captain and the first lieutenant were about; and they could certainly not be at theirs in front of the crew. It may shock some to know it, but officers were only men, and therefore as in much need o f  clearing away the cobwebs as any topman or gunner might be after a month or two being suffocated in a (rather lovely) ship.

James had left their spirited crew under the watchful, and jovial, eye of midshipman Chase, and together Henry and James had headed northwards along the narrow beach. As the more fleet of foot of the two, James had led the way across the jumble of yellow tinged rocks scattered at the base of the tall, scrub covered promontory that separated the sunny bay from the more shaded, narrow rocky cove where they were setting themselves up for a swim.

“I say, Pritchard must have finally let the men loose,” Henry grinned as he dropped his waistcoat on top of his shoes. “They sound to be having a jolly good time of whatever they’re up to.”

“I must say, I am glad to hear it,” James set down his neatly folded trousers, rubbing at his ribs through the loose linen shirt, which was stuck to the sweat on his back and chest in a really rather artful way. “Work has been far too warm since Bushire, and will continue to be until we round the cape, and then we shall be in the Atlantic. I want alert and rested men for that journey. If I can help it.”

“I think our boys are rather a merry lot anyway, Jas.” Henry watched as James bent to roll his pristine white stockings down over his finely turned calves, then turned to get his own trousers off. “A bracing dip in the ocean should clear away all those things that build up while a fellow is at sea, eh.”

“Quite,” James said, taking Henry’s trousers from him to fold before setting them on top of the pair of pistols they had with them. “Mr Bridgens would be appalled to see what you did to his creases, Dundy.”

“The only thing I can fold is maps,” Henry declared as he pulled off his shirt. “And that is damned perilous at times.”

James gave an exaggerated sigh. “My poor chart of Basra is indeed yet to recover from your gentle treatment.”

“Oh come now, Jas,” Henry pretended to huff, setting his hand on his hip with as much dignity as an unclothed man might muster. “I hardly dropped the thing in the marshes, did I?”

James smiled brightly, shaking his head, and finally stopping his dallying over their clothes to remove his shirt. 

He looked smaller out of his uniform - in the literal sense, not the metaphorical (its absence did not diminish men like James, and the effect of its presence was all a matter of tailoring anyway). He was soft at the hips and powerful at the shoulders, his limbs rather long and lithe, with his tanned hands at the end of his pale arms only making them appear longer. The effect was somewhat ungainly, and Henry was struck by a desire to use his more sturdy build to shove James into the sea.

Which he promptly did, and put up no struggle when James, with the reflexes of one used to mischief, caught his arm and pulled Henry in along with him.

They hit the water with a graceless, heavy splat, the force of it smarting like the firm smacks Henry used to receive as a child for stealing pears. The gloriously warm water of the gulf soothed the stinging way as it swirled around him, bubbles rushing brightly past his ears and almost getting up his nose.

He pushed off the rocky seabed, and was momentarily blinded upon surfacing, shoving his hair back and dashing the water from his eyes just in time for James to sink them again by grasping Henry by the shoulders, jumping up, and then dropping down heavily. 

There was a tussle beneath the surface, all rank forgotten as they shoved at one another, grasping hands slipping on smooth skin and legs tangling. Henry dug his fingers into James’ side when he tried to twist out of his grip, and the way James jerked back had Henry letting go out of fear that he had pressed too hard on one of his wounds. 

It turned out the rascal was only playing his advantage, and James took his chance to turn and kick away in one elegant movement, ripples of sunlight rushing over him as he cut through the water like a rather leggy fish. 

Henry could have made a grab for his ankle to pull him back, but the rumpus had left him with a familiar twinge of warmth. Which was understandable, he supposed, as the last time he had touched that much bare skin, and been touched in turn, had been in Singapore over a year ago. James was no alluring lady, but he was handsome all over, and twelve years in the navy had given Henry an appreciation for more than just foreign landscapes and delicacies. 

He let himself rise to the surface, stretching out his limbs as he pushed himself away from the rocks and out into the middle of the cove. James had swum right out into open water, but Henry was content to float around, eyes closed against the white sunlight that prickled his skin and lit up the inside of his eyelids all sorts of pretty shades of orange and pink. He remained like that a while, almost dozing as the water lapped at his ears, feeling luxurious and indulgent, barely paying James any mind when he passed by him once. Twice. Three times! Then, on his fourth pass, Henry reached out just enough to let his fingers brush along the cool skin of James’ back. 

It finally brought his interminable swimming to an end; and when James came to join him in bobbing about like a buoy, Henry told him that he was glad of it. 

“Was I disturbing your nap, my dear?”

“Very much so,” Henry said, opening his eye to squint at him. “Ain’t the thing, sprinting about like an opium clipper. Just fought a war over that nonsense, old boy. ”

James gently splashed him. “I am simply ridding myself of all those things that build up while a fellow is at sea, as you said.”

Henry thought that the brush of James’ leg against his, and the idyllic seclusion (despite the men being only five-hundred yards away) was not quite the way to go about that. By rights Henry should have engaged in some rushing about to rid himself of that lingering, heavy, overheated feeling, but he was not as strong a swimmer as James. And besides, he was enjoying lazing about far too much. 

They drifted around for a little while until the gentle tide took them closer to the rocks. James heaved himself out first, water rushing down over his shoulders and hips, flicking his soaked hair off his face as he stepped to a dry patch to help Henry out of the water. He winced slightly at the effort, assuring Henry that it was only a faint ache in the muscle when he reached for the dull red scar on James' arm.

They rinsed the salt from one another's hair with the water from one of the canteens they had brought with them, James scrubbing his blunt nails against Henry's scalp in such a delightful manner that he almost asked him to keep going. Instead Henry sat down heavily on his folded coat, tipping his face into the balmy breeze to let it dry him, and, before he could even think to ask, James pulled out the bag of wonderful syrupy dates.

They had stopped in at a middling sort of merchant town a few days earlier, where the local sheikh was understandably wary of having a Royal Navy ship looming outside of his harbour, until, with a brightening of his lined face, he discovered James had some Arabic. The two of them became firm friends for the day, and after a very fine feast of mutton and grains, they were all sent on their way with piles of delicacies and treats that were hardly going to last the week.

"I do like these dates, I could eat a whole bag," Henry sighed after he had made his way through the sticky handful James had given him, drawing his arm back to launch the pits into the water where they landed with a series of distant plops.

"Which is why I have hold of it," James grinned as he worked the pit out a particularly large date, biting it two and handing half to Henry.

"You are a veritable tyrant of a commander," Henry declared as he chewed, inspecting the stickiness on his fingers. 

"My presence should make you a' tremble, lieutenant!" James thundered, falling into merriment when Henry tipped his head back and laughed. 

"I- oh my. I do quake, sir," Henry sniggered, leaning in to James so their bare shoulders brushed. "If I had boots on, I should quake in them."

"By rights I could have you turned before the mast for being so improperly dressed," James said, raising an imperious eyebrow as he looked over Henry's nakedness in a way that made him feel rather conscious of it.

"Then I shall hurl you back into the waters," Henry threatened, making to pull James' ear, and not relenting when James batted him away. "Hand over a date, sir, and save your dignity."

James threw one at him, which bounced off Henry's chest to fall into the sea, then another that he caught, but which first knocked him in the face.

"Serves you right!” James huffed. “Keep your awful sticky fingers away from me."

"They are a rather treacly delicacy," Henry mused, squashing the date between his thumb and forefinger, thoroughly destroying it, before popping the remains into his mouth.

He was aware of James tracking the movement. Before Henry could give him an enquiring look, James had turned back to look over the waters, laying out one of his legs so his toes touched the water.

Their short exposure to the sun had already put a honeyed sheen on his skin, and the swim had relaxed the tension he always held across his shoulders in the way only three of four glasses of claret usually managed. He looked very well at his ease, Henry thought, and that was when James glanced over at him with a questioning sound.

"Nothing, Jas," Henry said quickly, turning his attention back to the stickiness on his fingers.

James watched him still, and Henry curled his toes against the smooth warm stone, his face heating to match the warmth that was still sitting low in his gut.

He could blame the years he had been away from England in unrestrained Eastern climes. He could blame the not so distant war he had found himself surviving. He could blame the heat, the swim, the larking about, and the wonderful sense of ease sitting here with James brought him. He could blame the sweetness on his tongue and the taste of salt on his lips, and - if he were a lesser man - the dear, dark eyed friend beside him. 

Henry was not a stranger to the hand a man might give his fellow on long voyages. Although despite knowing, or maybe because he knew where James' preferences tended to fall, he did not like to assume James was similarly affected. Especially not when Henry was sitting gracelessly naked on a rock, a prickle of sweat on his face and his rapidly drying hair no doubt a fright, with hands sticky like a mucky child.

His racing thoughts calmed a moment when James handed him another date. Henry popped out the pit, then returned the earlier favour by giving half back. James' eyes flicked over his face - trust in his searching gaze, if never quite openness - before leaning forward ever so slightly. Henry felt a decadent thrill go right to his groin as he raised his hand so James could take it from his fingers, and then a much warmer, deeper thrill when chapped lips and the warmth of James' mouth brushed over his fingertips. 

"You will be interested to know -” James murmured, a look in his eye that bordered on mischief, “- that the salt on your skin goes rather well with the sweetness of the dates."

" _ I say, James, _ " Henry breathed, aware that there was no hiding just much interest his prick had taken in that.

"Was that too much?" James asked, almost looking embarrassed at his action.

"No. No, it's - not at all,” Henry glanced at his mouth, which had never been alluring before now, then to his glittering eyes. “Might as well top off a dashed decadent day with yet another indulgence, eh?”

James smiled in that handsome way of his, letting out a very un-dashing noise of surprise when Henry gave him a friendly kiss on the mouth. “What - ”

“Well, I thought - I am hardly going to go about it as if we were hiding on the orlop. It’s not romance, but we are good friends, eh? Or have I rather overstepped?” 

"I do not think so," James said fondly as he shifted closer, and Henry felt quite pleased with himself to see James' half hard prick - which was as long and pretty as the rest of him - laying heavily against his thigh.

Over his time Henry had been made aware that he was not an unattractive sort. However, on more than one occasion over the past few months James had seen him sunburned and lethargic from the heat and lack of sleep, and while in India had been a brick when Henry had been terribly ill out of a gunport after a surfeit of brandy had disagreed with the way  _ Clio _ had been swaying at her mooring - so it felt rather the thing to be the cause of such a  _ reaction _ .

James set his hand high on Henry's thigh, the faint stickiness on his fingers dragging against his skin as he edged closer to Henry's prick.

Now, Henry was most agreeable to the idea of having James' long, careful fingers on his person, but he would feel terribly low if James were to consider, for even a moment, that this fancy was merely because Henry knew he did not favour female company.

Besides, if one were going to indulge, one might as well throw oneself into it.

He stilled James' hand, and gave him a few more kisses, delighting in the sweet stickiness of his mouth and the way James pushed clumsily into them. Henry touched the smooth, cool skin of his shoulder, then his ribs, then his hip, tugging gently to get James to half turn towards him, before trailing his fingertips over the soft flesh of his abdomen.

"Now I see why women are always so fond of you," James commented drily, a comely flush on his cheeks, and his prick, which was showing its great appreciation for Henry's unrushed approach to his enjoyment.

Henry laughed, “I say, are you implying that I’m a swaggering rake?”

“I would never, not in my whole life,” James murmured as he kissed his cheek. A rather sweet gesture that happened to coincide with Henry wrapping his fingers around James’ cockstand.

James breathed heavily as Henry stroked him, leaning his forehead against Henry’s temple as he scraped his blunt nails up the inside of Henry's thigh to press his palm against the curve of his prick.

It was sultry and close, sweat breaking out on the back of Henry’s neck as James frigged him in the same adept manner he did all things. James had him gasping almost at once, working out how tightly to hold him without any word from Henry, moving his fist as quickly or as slowly as he deemed right to wring the most pleasure from him. 

Henry found the motion of his own hand stuttering when James began to turn his wrist, giving the leaking head of Henry's prick a caressing twist on every up stroke. Sparkling heat surged relentlessly in his gut, and Henry had to bite his lip to keep himself at bay.

“Go on,” James whispered against the shell of his ear, ducking to leave a rather soft kiss to the skin beneath.

Henry's heel slipped on the smooth rock as he gulped down a moan. His hand stuttered to a halt on James' yard, but James did not seem to mind. He was stroking Henry with such careful determination that Henry found he was not ashamed to gasp and grunt through his end while neglecting James.

" _ Oh, _ " he breathed hard once he was spent, setting a hand onto the pile of clothes at his back to hold himself up. He blinked onto the reflecting sunlight, then over at James who was grinning at him. "Boasting does not suit you."

James smiled, shaking his hair off his face as he dropped a smacking kiss to the faint smattering of moles on Henry's shoulder. He would have looked wholly unbothered by the lack of attention if not for the flush running down his chest, and the way he twitched against Henry's palm when he shifted his hand.

"I do not boast!" James protested breathlessly. He gave Henry's cock a little farewell tug as he took his hand away, grin widening when Henry let out a gasp at the sharp, sensitive jolt that went through him. "Simply surveying my good works."

"Oh go soak your head, Jas."

James looked as if he were about to say something cheeky, swallowing it down when Henry started frigging him again. Henry tracked the bob of his Adam's apple, wondering if he was only just noticing the graceful line of James' throat because he now knew the weight and the shape of his yard. Henry looked back to James' face, finding a frown on his brow and his eyes closed, and watched his sunbleached lashes shift against his cheek in a most pleasing way while James trembled silently through his release. 

They flopped out afterwards, Henry feeling sweaty and content down to his bones, and not caring one bit for the pistol butt digging into his shoulder. He wiped his hand clean on the rock then stretched, enjoying the satisfying heaviness in his limbs and the warm breeze against all the sensitive parts of his skin. He felt luxurious, and even more indulgent than when they had first embarked on this, even though he was sticky in places he would really rather not be. 

“I say - ” he began, looking to James to suggest another swim, and found him considering the various sticky messes left on his long fingers by the dates and Henry's prick. He blushed as a rather rough heat went through him, then blushed deeper, a thing that James did not miss when he looked at him. 

“ _ Dundy. _ ”

“Oh,  _ don’t _ . Let me be a sordid in peace,” Henry complained, and he would have slid off the rock and into the ocean to let it carry him off, if James had not then licked one of his own fingers clean.

He watched, wide eyed as his tingling body reacted to James cleaning Henry’s essence from his hand. He wiped the rest off on his thigh before turning on to his side to look Henry in the eye, taking up Henry’s hand and licking the last traces of their activities from his thumb, before telling him. “There is not a sordid thing about you, old boy.”

“You might as well say that,” he muttered, and James raised a pointed eyebrow at him. “Oh you were certainly lewd, Fitzjames, but it has not made you - decidedly priapic, twice in an hour!”

“You have always worn your youth better than I, Dundy,” James murmured with such softness Henry felt a shiver go through him. “And I was…” he paused, and Henry watched him swill the words around his mouth as James tucked a lock of hair, which was beginning to curl with sweat, behind his ear. “It was a - an offer, as well as a tidy up,” he said quietly, looking pointedly down Henry’s body to where it was being most insistently obscene. “For if we are being indulgent with our delicacies, then might you indulge me?”

The sensitive tingling Henry was experiencing became quite feverish. He looked south, towards the promontory that hid them away from their men and their duty, and almost blurted out that he could not let James do that, but it would not be true. James would not be diminished for - for  _ minetting _ him, and besides, Henry felt rather puffed up for eliciting such a desire with his perfectly ordinary self. 

“Always, old boy,” Henry breathed, hips shifting when James kissed his shoulder, then the centre of his chest, then the slight swell of his soft stomach, following the trail of hair that led the way down to his prick. 

He had raised himself up onto his elbows to watch, as he felt like that was the polite thing to do, and almost toppled right off them when James curled over to put his lips on him. He was not full of fancy, protracted tricks, which Henry was rather glad of as James’ hot, wet mouth around his tender, sensitive prick was sending exquisite, jarring jolts of pleasure through Henry. He felt as if his breath was being stolen from his lungs, and could barely cry out when James took him all in then applied his tongue to the underside of Henry's prick.

James’ hair had slipped down to curtain his face, the ends trailing softly over Henry’s skin with every bob his head. He had to reach out to push it away, shifting his fingers through James’ soft, fluffy  locks to lay his hand on the back of his neck, almost crying out when James made a noise around his stand and took him deeper.

The sensations were so much, almost too much to feel pleasurable after spending so soon beforehand. It felt decadent and dissolute to have his needs seen to in such quick succession, and Henry did not know whether to curl in on himself or buck his hips up as he reached his peak again, the pleasure so sharp and simmering as James swallowed him down that Henry thought he might faint.

And, in fact, when he came back to himself, blinking dumbly up at the sky, Henry felt so languid and heavy limbed, and his brain so wonderfully numb, that he thought he might have momentarily died. 

“I should hope not,” James said with too much nonchalance from beside him. “I do not know how I should enter that in the log.”

Henry sighed. He glanced down at himself, feeling a great swoop of affection when he saw that his shirt was laid over him, protecting his skin from the burning beam of sunlight that was creeping over their rock. Then he glanced up at James who was sitting beside him, shirt donned, with his knees pulled up to his chest.

“Fatal tounge-lashing,” Henry breathed, and James scoffed.

“I am flattered.”

Henry made a high pitched noise at that, not really sure what he meant by it, and made an effort to wiggle his toes to check that his legs still worked. 

“Would you like some water?” James offered, twisting to pick up the canteen when Henry nodded, then helped him to sit up so he did not drown himself in the process of drinking.

“I am - that is to say,  _ good Lord _ . I think I -” Henry began, then gave up on thinking, and set his head on James' shoulder for a moment. "We shall need a damned good wash."

He felt James huff silently in amusement, then shift to throw a friendly arm about him. “We will have to return soon, anyway,” he glanced up at the sky, “it is almost first dog watch.”

Henry grunted in reply, and began to force his heavy limbs into his shirt, which suddenly felt as large as a tent. “I do not know how I will take the watch later,” he sighed once he had got his arms in the right holes. "You have ruined me for all work."

“I shall give Nebet a commission in the field,” James said as he tugged Henry’s shirt down like a rather brisk nanny. “She can take your duties on the quarterdeck, and you can take on her vital work of sleeping all day."

Henry thought he might sleep well no matter how close and humid the night might be, and let out such a great, dreamy sigh of pleasure at the thought that James laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who spent a whole afternoon in a google deep dive about Yemen and the Arabian Sea. If you said This Fool you'd be CORRECT.


End file.
